


Sprouts

by MelchiorGabor



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Arrested, Cannabis, Imprisonment, Inmates, It’s just the leaves though, M/M, Mild Angst, Not a crack fic, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love, for weeeeed, good kush, hanahaki, help him, he’s coughing up the good kush, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelchiorGabor/pseuds/MelchiorGabor
Summary: Pining is a bitch, and even more so when you begin developing a life-threatening disease that causes you to cough up petals.Yet, oddly enough, these aren’t flower petals. Instead, Michael must deal with something even more threatening to his school life and general well-being. Something that can get him arrested.





	1. Pride Cometh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candlewick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlewick/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael uncovers something horribly wrong. Two things, for that matter: a ruinous disease and the consequences alongside it.

Shit. _Shit_!

Michael Mell’s own quivering hands offered a tender touch to his lips as his eyes darted to and fro across the hallway. He felt like he was going to be sick, and what for? All because he saw his best friend hand-in-hand with the girl he was happily infatuated by? The thought was something to be ashamed of; who was he to strip Jeremy of his happiness, all because the thin boy was the subject of Michael’s yearning. Was that not selfish? It was, and Michael unequivocally knew as much.

This feeling was something else. A fluttering, palpitating heart coupled with the urge to vomit out both his guts and his feelings did not brew well with the hooded boy. His glasses began to fog around the rim, an upshot of a strong contrast between the cold, stale school air and Michael’s burning cheeks. There was no escape in this moment, and so he felt as if he were marooned on an island of his own deep guilt and shame. The closest bathroom was all the way down the hall, and the only way he’d be able to reach it without anybody seeing his deep flush and budding tears would be to run. What good would come of that, though? All he’d do is draw more attention to himself, seeing as everybody else was making merely a leisurely commute to their next class.

Despite his worries, brushing past Jeremy and Christine seemed simple in retrospect. All he’d need to do is walk past them with an air of carelessness; if he could pull that much off, he’d likely remain unnoticed. That was, however, until he actually brushed against Jeremy’s arm in a literal sense. The action was unintentional, since he had a natural inclination to swing his arms as he walked, but the teen overshot the distance between he and Jeremy, which caused what was perhaps the second disaster that morning.

Jeremy’s head turned to face the origin of whatever brisked by him, and once his eyes met Michael’s, his first instinct was to smile and wave with his free hand.

“Michael! Good morning!” Jeremy pepped, and Christine turned her head to offer Michael a glance as well. She smiled brightly at the boy, which made Michael feel even more ill. Such a friendly girl doesn’t deserve such hasty backlash, simply because of a dumb crush. Michael did sincerely hope that Jeremy and Christine were happy, despite his conflicting emotions.

“Oh! Uh, hi, Jeremy,” Michael stammered, trying to stare in some other direction. Such an act intended to hide his face from the couple’s view, but all he did was raise suspicion. To quickly escape this unfortunate escapade, he formulated a quick, foolproof excuse to flee. “Sorry, I gotta get to class. Um, I’ll see you guys later!”

And with that, Michael fled the scene with urgency, sweat beading above his brow. He traveled down the hall with as much speed he could travel at without raising eyebrows, and soon pushed open the bathroom door. As if on queue, he started coughing and choking on his breath as he scrambled to get into a stall. After fumbling with the lock to keep it shut, his breath faltered in and out as he kept his eyes fixed to the white, shimmering bathroom tiles. What was this? Why did he just feel the strong urge to regurgitate something foreign, purely unbeknownst to whatever it happened to be?

Something tickled the back of his throat, and the feeling made him gag. Whatever it was, it wasn’t even remotely pleasant or previously consumed _raw_ by Michael. No, this was something else. He coughed once, then twice, and the horrifying realization hit him like a bag of bricks.

One long leaf flew out of his mouth from the back of his throat and slowly fluttered down, ultimately landing on the tile below. The heavily pigmented green alongside the unmistakable jagged edges of the leaf only signified one thing.

Was that… a cannabis leaf?

No. No! That’s ridiculous. Michael shook his head and shut his eyes tight, trying to drown out any stray thoughts just in case he was hallucinating. The fact that he just coughed up a leaf in general was absurd! With these thoughts in mind, he opened his eyes again, expecting the leaf to be gone.

It was still there, laying static on the ground.

Was this a fever dream? Michael was reeling; he put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes through his glasses almost violently, as if he was attempting to scratch out the picture of the leaf from his head. Fear began to trickle through his veins as he slowly came to terms with why this might be occurring. It was only something he had read about once or twice upon stumbling over it somewhere on the Internet, but he happened to remember enough to the point where terror made him freeze up in his place.

Unrequited love. The Hanahaki disease. And alongside that uncovery, the potential death of Michael Mell.

Despite being aware of the concept, never did Michael actually think that he’d be suffering from the very disease that seemed undoubtedly fictitious. Inquiries doubling in quantity popped into his head as he tried to grasp the fact that he now _had_ this life-threatening disease. And on top of that, why weed, of all plants? What the fuck, Earth?

Somebody pushed open the door of the bathroom, as evident by the steady creak of the door. Michael was sure to remain as silent as humanly possible, scrambling to pick up the damp leaf. This was a nightmare; what if somebody happened to find him with weed? The only feasible option was to flush it, yet after he managed to drop it into the toilet, there was a quiet knock on his stall door.

“Michael? You in there?” asked a meek, inquisitive voice. Fuck, of course Jeremy decided to follow him. “Everything alright, buddy?”

The hidden teen tried to stay dead silent. _Tried_. Despite all of his best efforts, however, he couldn’t help but cough once more, thus prompting another leaf to fly out from his parted lips. As if things couldn’t get worse, Jeremy saw it fall to the floor through the small, empty space between the ground and where the stall door was fixed.

“Dude, are you smoking in here?”

“Why would I be smoking a fucking leaf, Jeremy?” Michael asked in return, his voice shaky and hoarse. “I’m not. Get to class.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell that was back there. Christine and I are really concerned, dude,” Jeremy started, rapping on the stall door again. “Let me in.”

“No,” said the taller teen. He’d stay in that damn stall even if it killed him. Jeremy couldn’t see him like this.

The thin, lanky boy had already admitted defeat. There was no getting Michael out of there, even if he dropped to his knees and begged. “Well, at least come to me if you’re ready to explain what just happened.”

Soon thereafter, Jeremy walked out.

Michael sighed in relief. His best friend was completely unaware of the fact that as they spoke, immense pain shot through Michael’s entire body, and particularly his lungs. If the plant began rooting itself inside of him and growing, that would entail something beyond unfortunate. The emotional and physical pain of the situation was harrowing, yet what could he do? Get over Jeremy? Not likely.

Dropping the new leaf into the toilet alongside the preexisting one, he quickly flushed it and opened the stall door once he had collected himself. God, this was a mess. And the worst part? If he was caught, the revelation would be both Michael’s romantic helplessness and an illegal possession of cannabis.

He couldn’t face school any longer for fear that he’d cough up more in class. His body put him in danger in numerous ways, and such a fact would make his life a hell of a lot more difficult.

He had to leave. Once the door was open, he swiftly fled the school building and drove home in his vehicle, feeling a strain in his throat the entire way back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS THAT A WEED?


	2. Before the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets into trouble. Deep trouble. He’s then carted away like a corpse.

Driving home from school, despite the clock barely hitting eleven o’clock, depleted Michael’s energy a fair amount. By the time he pulled into his own driveway and fumbled with his house keys to unlock the front door, he managed to cough up perhaps two or three more leaves. With each choke on air, the sudden jerk of his lungs became increasingly more painful, until he finally submitted to the agony he forewent and flopped down horizontally onto the couch. He thankfully slammed the front door shut after entering, thus allowing him with the opportunity to groan loudly as pathetic tears streaked down his warm face.

Draping an arm over his eyes, he couldn’t help but mull over what a life might be like where he didn’t find any attraction in his best friend. They’d have the opportunity to fitfully coexist, whereupon Jeremy would still be happily in love with Christine and Michael could genuinely be happy for them. Of course he already was, but the yearning to have his hand in Jeremy’s rather than Christine taking up that spot left a dent in his swelled heart.

Something in Michael’s pocket buzzed. With hesitance, the teen reached down to withdraw his phone and view whatever may have compelled it to go off, yet when he finally saw what it was, his stomach sank and it felt as if gravity was pressing into him.

_“They’re looking for you.”_

What was that supposed to mean? Michael looked at the contact, and once he saw that the sender was Jeremy, his skin pricked with goosebumps. Almost immediately, his thumbs tapped away with haste, sending an inquiry back to Jeremy.

_“What? Who’s looking for me?”_

The teen’s brain was clouded with confused thoughts regarding what Jeremy was talking—or rather texting—about. If it was about him leaving school early, he didn’t think it to be that big of a deal. Kids skipped all the time, so what problem was it that Michael had followed suit? If anything, the excuse that he felt sick and needed to urgently go home was always at his disposal, and even then, nobody would really search for him. He was one of the highest performing students in that damn school; to hell with being present every single day!

The teen came to the conclusion that Jeremy was busy in class, hence why he hadn’t replied at his usual speed. This left Michael with a fair amount of time to ponder Jeremy’s vague statement as anxiety began to quicken his heart. It was only when he got a response that he felt his pulse nearly stop.

_“Somebody in the bathroom stalls ratted on you. They know you had cannabis. I tried clearing things up, but nobody found you and”_

The message ended at “and,” making Michael’s face fall. Of course. He should’ve checked to see if anybody else was in the bathroom before rushing in. To him, it was presumably empty! How was he supposed to know that somebody else was in there at the time? The boy felt dread pool in his gut as he sat up, a cold sweat overtaking his aching body. After coughing and soon wheezing, thus producing even more leaves, he frantically gathered whatever he had managed to choke out and went outside to burn it in the fire pit.

Ever since his parents had disappeared on some cruise or voyage to an unknown place, Michael was left with the house and everybody’s previous belongings. Because of this, he held a sense of responsibility and avidly kept the house tidy. Perhaps it was out of grief or respect, or perhaps it was out of the false hope that his parents would one day return. It was wishful thinking, but nevertheless he now owned a functional fire pit, into which he hurriedly threw the leaves.

After setting them aflame and watching them burn up before his eyes, he suffocated the flame with the cover of the pit and shakily traipsed back inside. It was only then that he got another message from Jeremy, which he noticed after he picked up his phone from the couch. Leaving it there was a mistake. Jeremy sent a text eight minutes ago.

_“They’re coming. Get out of the fucking house Michael they’re coming and you’ll be in huge trouble dude the weed wasn’t worth it.”_

After deciphering whatever the hell Jeremy was trying to get across with that lack of punctuation, his lips became agape with horror. They weren’t _actually_ going to come to his house, were they? And in that instance, who did “they” refer to? The school administration? The pol—

All thoughts Michael was swarmed by were cut short by a loud, forceful knock at his door. If he tried to hide or escape, he’d be in even more trouble. Who knows, maybe it was the neighbors instead. He hesitantly approached the door and turned the handle, only to nearly be knocked over by a policeman darting in. Such force prompted Michael’s eyes to water as he violently choked out another leaf, watching in raw terror as it fell before the huge man’s feet.

“We were informed that you brought cannabis onto school grounds,” said the broad man, bending over to pick up and examine the leaf. He seemingly didn’t realize that its origin was from Michael’s own mouth. “As a result, you will be facing immediate prosecution.”

The school had all of his records, including his address. Shit.

Michael cried out as the man forcefully grabbed his wrist. “Up against the wall, please. You are under arrest.” As the man began reading out Michael’s Miranda rights, the teen didn’t struggle. Why would he? All he could do was sit there and listen and feel his hands being roughed into a cold pair of metal handcuffs.

The teen went numb. Feelings of love for Jeremy still remained, of course, yet it felt as if they somehow dissipated and were replaced with a tingling sensation he could only describe as an amalgamation of both dread and an urge to just die right then and there. Never did the boy imagine that he’d be arrested for something so trivial and something he was completely helpless to, yet there he was, being shoved into the back of a police car without the opportunity to look back at everything he was leaving behind. His education, his house, his friends, and his sanity were all parts of those losses.

Other police cars sped by, which only signified that Michael’s house would be searched. Therein was his problem: he possessed actual pot and not merely the plant. It was recreational, but the fact that the police would likely find it only meant that he’d be in deeper shit. This realization made the boy silently cry, unable to do a thing as tears freely fell down his already damp cheeks. A small sniffle or two broke the silence of the police car every once in a while, which only made the environment more miserable. His crime wasn’t heinous, but he was being driven away as if it was.

Everything was being destroyed, and if he didn’t die from this disease, he’d still be in a living hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M CALLING THE POLICE. *dials 911 into the microwave*


	3. Nausea Before the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael becomes acquainted with his new cellmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh I’ve never been imprisoned so I apologize if this is inaccurate??
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Comments are always appreciated!

The booking period was slow and painstakingly boring for Michael. Collecting the teen’s records appeared almost corrupt if you happened to look at his dejected, overcast expression. He put up no fight, simply allowing for himself to be dragged along through the entire process.

That was more than a week ago, as far as Michael knew. He could hardly remember, since the drawn-out process inching him closer to those sinister metal jail bars was happening painfully slowly. Now, however, his conviction was already set in stone. Nine months. Nine fucking months sitting in a jailed cell with some other twit arrested for something that was probably much worse. The thought made Michael sick as he was being tugged away by some guards.

Naturally, he was already given the protocol and “schedule” for each day in the hellhole. Lunch was at noon. He was granted some time outside of his cell each day, and there was a small TV in his cell that he’d likely have to share with his fellow convict. It didn’t fit what he imagined prison to be like; in fact, it was slightly better. What was previously the belief that he’d be locked away without any escape from the cell or any human interaction turned into something… less bad, so to speak. That still didn’t make his situation good, but it became slightly more bearable.

The teen was led into a cell down the long, cold hallway, and with a loud creak of the metal door, he met eyes with his new inmate, who looked to be lying flat on the top bunk of two beds. The stranger sat up and peered down at Michael with narrowed, black eyes, yet he remained completely silent until the guards locked the teen in and walked away.

“Never thought they’d trust me with an inmate,” the dark-eyed boy commented, sliding off of the bed and landing on his feet once he hit the ground. He extended a hand, which Michael shook uncomfortably. “Great to have you here.”

“How long have you been here?” the shorter teen asked meekly, looking up at the overbearing boy. The height difference wasn’t much, but it was enough to add more intimidation to his new inmate’s overall character.

“About a year now, I’d say. Hard to keep track when you’re having so much fun,” said the unknown boy, his voice thick with blatant sarcasm. He was definitely a sociopath of some sort. If Michael made it out of the cell alive, it’d be a shock. “What’re you in for?”

Shrugging, Michael looked around. “Illegal possession of weed,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes, the fact that he got arrested was stupid, and he seemed to know that. The other boy laughed, although it was oddly not intimidating. Perhaps the juxtaposition between this tall, threatening boy and his genuine laugh threw Michael off, but he looked up at the other in slight disbelief.

“We get kids like you here all the time,” he said, a faint smile still on his face. “If you ask me, it’s bullshit. No need to look so scared, dude.”

Michael cleared his throat and nodded, a sinking feeling overtaking him as he felt something brush against the back of his throat. “Yeah, um,” is all he could say as he tried to swallow the leaf down. It didn’t work very well. “Name…what’s your name?”

“Confidential information, pal,” said the boy, aimlessly pacing around the room. After he sensed Michael’s discomfort, he chuckled dryly. “Kidding. Jason Dean, although ‘JD’ is preferable. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I, uh,” Michael stammered, cracking his knuckles as a nervous tic. “My name is Michael. Michael Mell. Nice to meet you?” His voice carried with it a wave of uncertainty, since it was hard to tell whether JD was safe to be around. Who was he kidding, though; he was in a jail cell. Safety probably wasn’t the biggest concern.

“You look terrified. Don’t be; I promise I don’t bite,” said JD in return, giving the shorter boy a firm pat on the back before leading him to the bottom bunk. Michael hesitantly sat down on the firm mattress, looking up at the taller boy. He wasn’t very friendly, but he was certainly tolerable. “You can sleep here.”

“Thanks,” Michael said plainly, feeling the thin cloth of the bedsheets on his fingertips. This sucked major ass, but if he was going to be there for a while, the least he could do was converse with his inmate. “So—“

Almost immediately, he clasped both hands over his mouth and coughed in a raucous manner. Out came two leaves, both moderately sized, and he gripped onto them with eyes wide in horror, hoping JD wouldn’t see. So much would need to be explained if his inmate happened to see him holding onto actual cannabis, yet he was unfortunately forced to become acquainted with that possibility when JD caught a glimpse.

“You okay there?” asked the other teen, who was still standing and peering down at Michael. He saw little flashes of green in the boy’s trembling, tense hands. “What’s that? Is it— Oh, my God. I never thought I’d live to see a day where somebody managed to store hemp in their fucking lungs.” He grinned, looking as if to be on the brink of laughter.

“I didn’t—!” Michael choked out, hot tears pricking his eyes in both horror and panic. He lowered his shaking hands, which still gripped onto the leaves. Despite this, JD saw the green even better now, and realized that this wasn’t some simple joke.

“Hey, calm down,” the taller teen said in a hushed tone, snatching the leaves from Michael’s hands and going to the toilet. He quickly threw them in and flushed it, moving back to Michael once he was done. He then sat beside the shaky boy, looking at him with partly caution and partly disbelief. “You’re lucky the guards aren’t here.”

“Yeah,” the shorter boy said simply, his voice wavering as he tried to think of where to begin explaining. Sensing that Michael was clearly shaken, however, JD decided to change the subject.

“I don’t think I told you why I’m here,” JD started, trying to keep his tone calm in order to get Michael to chill out. If the guards suspected that they were up to something, they’d get into major trouble. “It started back in Ohio more than a year ago. I basically fell for some girl and ended up killing three people for her sake. I could’ve killed more if she didn’t stop me from bombing the place.” He paused to chuckle before continuing. “Anyway, I fled the scene before anyone could get to me, hence why I’m all the way in another state, yet they still managed to piece two and two together. Now I’m here and it’s been one hell of a year with inmates who have come and gone.”

Michael sat and listened to the other’s words intently; it was evident that he was calming down, since all he could do was picture what JD was describing. Oddly, he didn’t feel threatened in JD’s presence; such an occurrence was likely because he had shown at least a slight bit of hospitality, which was more than what the guards did. Perhaps JD learned from his mistakes.

“But yeah, all this time in a crowded cell has left me with plenty of time to reminisce. Keep this between you and me, but apparently if you get on your knees and suck a guard’s dick, they’ll let you escape,” JD continued, an amused grin sneaking its way onto his face as he watched Michael’s expression contort into one of horror. JD took a moment to laugh. “I’m just kidding. Luckily, I have a better escape plan.”

“Escape plan? You’ll be, like, shoved into solitary confinement for doing that,” Michael said quietly, although a small part of him mulled it over. It seemed enticing, and he could always move away with his parents’ leftover money so he could finish his education. Even so, it wasn’t certain whether or not JD would even let him come along.

“Incorrect,” JD said confidently, looking Michael dead in the eyes. “As long as you’re helping me, we will be successful.”

And thus, today marked the day Michael sold his soul for an escape. 


End file.
